Against All Odds: The Journey
by CharlieCaller
Summary: The second story in the AAO series. Two doctors, one nurse and one crazy corpsman get lost in the Korean wilderness. Will they get back alive? PLS RR
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, they belong to M*A*S*H and its associated companies. I am borrowing these characters and I am not making a profit from my use of them.  
  
A/N: I finally saw a M*A*S*H episode with BJ in it! So I should have a more accurate portrayal of him. (Slight aside point: I managed to write the third Against All Odds before the second, and I wrote it before I saw any series 4 shows, so it'll be slightly off in that.) Anyway. enjoy!  
  
  
  
Against All Odds 2: The Journey  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The OR. No one gets used to it. So many lives hang in balance, so much emotion, not to mention the ever-bitter stench of blood that filters through the air.  
  
Of course, when the lives are dealt with as best as they can be, the doctors are free for a precious few hours. BJ Hunnicutt's last patient was taken away, but he just stood there.  
  
"Hey, Beej," Hawkeye Pierce called from the other side of the room.  
  
"My patient's gone," BJ murmured.  
  
Trapper John McIntyre strolled over to the exhausted doctor, just in time to catch him when his knees buckled beneath him. Hawkeye hurried over to assist.  
  
"He's totally worn out," Hawkeye mumbled, trying to take some of his weight.  
  
"Hey, put him on a gurney," Trapper suggested. "We'll get him back to the Swamp that way."  
  
As the two struggled with BJ's sleeping form, Hawkeye asked, "How long has he been up?"  
  
"Well, we just had thirteen hours in here, he did four hours of Post-Op duty before that, I think he got an hour of sleep before the Post-Op duty, and that was after that sixteen hour long session of surgery."  
  
"So," Hawkeye began, adding up the figures in his head. "In the last thirty-four hours, he's had one hour of sleep?"  
  
"And we've had at least five," Trapper said. "You could look at it this way ad say that he hasn't had any sleep in seventeen hours."  
  
Hawkeye and Trapper laid BJ onto the cot, and adjusted him into a fairly comfortable position. "Our turn," Hawkeye said, laying down on his own bed and closing his eyes.  
  
Trapper decided not to sleep, but instead to meander over to the Mess Tent to see if there was anything to cease the growling form within his stomach. The term 'food' was used lightly in the Mess Tent of the 4077th M*A*S*H.  
  
The concept of a normal routine was slowly fitting back into the camp members lives at the 4077th M*A*S*H unit, particularly the life of Trapper John McIntyre. It was not too long ago that life was disrupted for him. Of course, the war in itself was a disruption with no routine, but nothing compared to losing his family, being in a jeep crash and being bombed whilst in the Supply Tent. Bad luck comes in threes, Hawkeye had told him, and he had certainly not been wrong.  
  
Although there had been three pieces of bad luck, Trapper had also had three pieces of good luck. Firstly, Frank Burns had left, which had given the camp the pleasurable company of BJ Hunnicutt. The second was that after the accident, Trapper found the value of the friendly, almost family- like atmosphere of the members of the unit, particularly Hawkeye, who was the best friend he could ever ask for.  
  
The third was that he had found love in the camp, in the form of Major Margaret Houlihan. The two fell for each other after seeing the nicer sides of each other. From then on, their romance just fell into place.  
  
Margaret, whom had had an affair with Frank previous to being with Trapper, felt that there was a big difference between the two. With Frank, she had seen just the physical side of love, but being with Trapper she felt more than that. She knew it sounded like the inside of a greeting card or something, but their souls were in the relationship and she could see the emotional side of love, and it felt good.  
  
In the Swamp, BJ and Hawkeye were still fast asleep when Radar O'Reilly scurried in. "Sir," he said as he shook Hawkeye awake.  
  
"Radar," Hawkeye mumbled, still half asleep, "Tell the wounded to take a seat in the waiting room whilst the doctor sleeps. Tell them to feel free to look at the five-year-old magazines."  
  
"Sir, it's important," Radar persisted.  
  
"When is it not important?"  
  
"Colonel Blake needs two doctors, one nurse and one corpsman to go somewhere near the front. Two choppers collided and six wounded are there. They can't transport them back by chopper because of the conditions there, loads of trees and stuff. They wouldn't make it by road, so instead of them coming to us, you have to go to them." He paused for breath. "Aid stations are packed full, so no hope there, either."  
  
Hawkeye had fully woken up during the speech. "Guess it is important. No," he halted Radar, who was about to wake up BJ. "No point. He's sleep deprived and wasn't fit to work through the last session as it was."  
  
"So, you and Trapper will go?"  
  
Hawkeye sighed. No one ever wanted to go, him well included, but sometimes you have to do things you really never want to do. "Looks that way, I guess. I'll find him, and you round up the nurse, corpsman and bus, and don't forget any equipment we'll need." Radar was out of the door even before Hawkeye had finished.  
  
Hawkeye poked his head into Margaret's tent and was surprised to find that only Margaret was there, asleep in her bed. "Hmm," he pondered. "If he's not here, and not in the Swamp, where could he be?" He strode past the Mess Tent, and this question in his mind was over when he saw Trapper inside, head in his arms on a table, inches away from half a sandwich.  
  
Hawkeye entered the tent and sat on the bench beside the sleeping form. "Trap?" he asked softly. He tapped him on the shoulder and Trapper sat bolt upright ready to attack, causing Hawkeye to jump back in surprise.  
  
"Don't do that!" Both scolded at the same time, before breaking into laughter.  
  
"What'd you wake me up for?" Trapper eventually asked.  
  
"We got a bus to catch," Hawkeye told him. "Six wounded, choppers collided somewhere close to the front."  
  
"Collided?" Trapper asked, not quite believing his ears.  
  
"You heard right. Come on, let's get going."  
  
Radar had to wake Major Houlihan; to confirm that one of her nurses was leaving.  
  
"Ma'am," Radar called softly.  
  
"Hmm? Radar?"  
  
"Sorry to disturb you, Major, but we need one of your nurses tonight, that is, Hawkeye and Trapper need a nurse tonight."  
  
"Need a nurse? For what?"  
  
"To get on the bus to go to the front and rescue six wounded," Radar blurted out in one breath.  
  
"Well, why didn't you say so? I'll go," the Major said, getting out of bed.  
  
"Colonel Blake says it can't be you, in case we get wounded while they're away. You'd pose as a surgeon."  
  
Margaret saw his point. "Okay, give me five minutes and I'll get you a nurse."  
  
Radar next went off in search of a corpsman and was surprised to find that Klinger instantly volunteered. "Klinger? You? You hate the war."  
  
"Exactly. They'll think I've totally cracked when they know I've volunteered for this."  
  
Radar looked at the strapped red sequin dress. "I don't think they'd want you in that. They'll want you in khaki."  
  
Klinger sighed. "A small price to pay. I'll be done in a second."  
  
Radar left the tent and drove the bus to the middle part of the compound. Hawkeye and Trapper assembled by the door, being briefed by Henry.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Rad. do we have a nurse and a corpsman?"  
  
"Klinger has volunteered to be the corpsman."  
  
"I thought he'd be the nurse," Trapper cut in with humour.  
  
". And he's just getting into his army fatigues. Major Houlihan is about to supply a nurse."  
  
"I'm hoping for a tall blonde," Hawkeye murmured.  
  
Klinger then marched into the compound. "Corporal Klinger SIR! Reporting for duty SIR!" He gave two salutes, each on the word 'sir.'  
  
Henry rolled his eyes. "All right, Klinger. Into the bus you go. You're driving."  
  
A moment later, the nurse showed up. "Lieutenant Bayliss, sir." She also saluted, though not as dramatically as Klinger.  
  
"Guess you got the short straw, Ginger," Hawkeye said, helping her onto the bus.  
  
"I volunteered to go," she replied simply.  
  
"All right, are you all ready to go?"  
  
"Miss, Trapper forgot his permission note," Hawkeye joked in a high-pitched voice.  
  
"Radar."  
  
"Maps, sir," Radar replied, giving them to him.  
  
Margaret had hurried out into the compound to find Trapper before he left. "I love you," she whispered when she found him.  
  
"I love you too," he replied, drawing her into a kiss whilst ignoring the cheers and whistles from those standing around the bus.  
  
"Drive, Klinger," Henry commanded once everyone was on the bus.  
  
"Yes, sir!" Klinger replied, speeding away into the evening. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Faint ripples of sunset could be spied if one was looking towards the horizon. The bus sped along the roads of Korea, with Klinger looking out for anyone or anything blocking the path before him. Trapper was making use of one of the stretchers and was making up for lost sleep. Hawkeye and Ginger chatted in the front seat, making mainly small talk.  
  
"Since Major Houlihan and Captain McIntyre became an item, like as a nurse has sure been easier," Ginger admitted.  
  
"For me, too," Klinger piped up. "She doesn't complain about my dresses anymore."  
  
"She was probably jealous before," Hawkeye remarked. He was only half- listening to the conversation. His mind wondered why Ginger volunteered to go on the trip. He decided he had nothing to lose by asking.  
  
"Ginger, can I ask you something?"  
  
"Of course, Captain."  
  
"Please, call me Hawkeye." Ginger nodded. "I wanted to ask you, what made you decide to volunteer to come on this trip?"  
  
Ginger thought about this for a moment. "Well, you know how when people talk about America going to war, they say how its our freckle-faced boys who are the brave heroes? Well, I'm not a boy and I sure as Hell don't have freckles, but I'm American and I'm at war, so can't I be brave too? I thought volunteering would show some of the ones who stereotype that I can be brave."  
  
Hawkeye smiled at Ginger's courage and determination. She was absolutely right; people could be very stereotypical, as well as sexist and racist. "You've shown them already, you know. You came to this party, for starters." Now for the personal question. "Do the others in the camp give you trouble?"  
  
"No," Ginger said. "They're all great. Well, Major Burns could be sometimes, for being a girl, but he was like that to all the girls. Not for my colour, though. Sexist but not racist."  
  
"Frank was generally personist," Hawkeye said, making her laugh.  
  
"He never liked me," Klinger pitched in. "He was always telling me to get out of my dresses."  
  
"Never satisfied, was he," Hawkeye declared. "A wife, an affair with Margaret, AND he had his sights set on Klinger, too."  
  
"Thank the Lord he left," Trapper thought to himself as he wordlessly listened to the conversation.  
  
BJ stirred in his sleep as the stars twinkled in the Korean night sky. Thoughts began to enter his mind. The last place he remembered being was in surgery. Where was he now? He decided that from the familiarity he felt, he was in his cot. He finally opened his eyes to see if anyone was around.  
  
"Hawkeye? Trapper?" Nothing. He thought they might have been in the Officer's Club, probably being swept out in their drunken states. He decided he'd get up later, and turned back over.  
  
The bus eventually found the crash site. From what they could see in the darkness, they saw the area was a scene of devastation. The six casualties lay awaiting, with three young soldiers standing guard. One came up to the bus to greet the members, and reported that one of the casualties hadn't made it. Sergeant Willis' dog tags were handed over.  
  
The personnel began to work on the five remaining casualties. It was very difficult, as they could only work under torchlight held by the soldiers. They did enough so that they could be stabilized for the trip to the nearest hospital.  
  
"Klinger, you make a great nurse," Trapper commented as he worked on a corporal.  
  
"Thank, doctor. Colonel Blake said that once, except that I haven't got the legs for it."  
  
"How's it going over there?" Hawkeye asked, once he was finished with his second patient.  
  
"Mid-way through here, but no problems so far," Trapper reported.  
  
"Okay, I'll take the last guy," Hawkeye volunteered. "Okay, Ginger?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Ginger replied.  
  
"The girl's got the memory of a goldfish. Please, call me Hawkeye. It suits me better than Captain or Sir."  
  
"Okay, I'll write it down when I get back, if I can remember by then," Ginger joked.  
  
"Wow, sense of humour from a nurse! You'd better be careful. If you start playing poker and drinking, you'll be mistaken from a doctor!"  
  
"What if someone asked me to operate? I wouldn't look much like a doctor then."  
  
"Frank Burns operated on people, and we're still not convinced," Trapper said. "There, all done. Hey Klinger, you okay? You look a bit pale."  
  
"Yeah, great. I'm just not so great with blood."  
  
"You certainly came to the wrong place," Hawkeye remarked.  
  
"Yeah, like I came here out of choice. Why do you think I've been wearing dresses since the day I got here? To make the ladies jealous of our clothes?"  
  
"I thought it was because you lost your pants (trousers,)" Trapper said.  
  
"I had to be sedated so that they could give me a physical, and even after that they had to tie me down!" Klinger continued, causing the surrounding staff to laugh.  
  
"All right, done," Hawkeye said. "Let's get these guys to the bus."  
  
"No need," a nearby Captain called. "We'll take them to a hospital by chopper."  
  
Hawkeye looked dumbstruck. "I thought that the reason we came out here was because you guys couldn't get a chopper here. What changed since then?"  
  
The Captain shrugged his shoulders. "The war moved? Don't ask me, I get the information from higher authorities. I don't run the war, you know."  
  
Hawkeye muttered, "could you imagine it if you did?" Louder, he called, "All right, Trapper, Ginger, Klinger, let's get back to the rats, fleas and Mess tent again. All aboard!"  
  
As the sky showed hints of sun, BJ decided he had better wake up. He was surprised to see that neither Hawkeye nor Trapper were back in the Swamp, and decided that either they had had better offers, or they were in the Mess Tent. He decided to check there first.  
  
Inside, he saw the familiar face of Radar, eating for three as usual. He grabbed a trap and some slop, and went to join.  
  
"Morning," he greeted.  
  
"Mmfnd," Radar replied, his mouth full of food. He swallowed it and tried again. "Morning."  
  
"Where are Hawkeye and Trapper?" BJ asked him.  
  
"On a bus, near the front, treating casualties. I would have woken you, but you were asleep."  
  
"I could have gone instead of one of them. Just because I'm the new guy doesn't mean that I can't handle the war, you know."  
  
"I don't think it had anything to do with you being the new guy, sir, just the fact that you hadn't had any sleep."  
  
"You know I could have still slept on the bus," BJ persisted crossly.  
  
"All right already, don't shoot the messenger! I lost my appetite." With that, Radar stormed off.  
  
Hardly a moment had passed before another voice remarked, "Radar? Lost his appetite? What would you have said to him for that to happen?"  
  
BJ turned around and was faced with Margaret. "He was the messenger and I metaphorically shot him," BJ admitted sheepishly.  
  
Margaret sat beside him with her cup of coffee. "What's up?"  
  
"They went up to the front without me and I feel guilty for it."  
  
"Guilty? Why?"  
  
"Well, I mean, what if."  
  
"BJ, hold it. Rule number one. In a war like this, you can't go through thinking 'what if?' You just have to let things happen."  
  
BJ sighed. "You're right, and I know you're right. It'll just take a bit of getting used to, this whole war thing."  
  
"Rule number two. No one gets used to war."  
  
Their thoughts were broken by the PA system. "Attention, all personnel. Wounded coming in, left, right and centre. All shifts to OR, this one's gonna be a long one."  
  
"More surgery?" And then it hit him. "There are only two doctors!"  
  
Henry, who was in his office, realised the same thing. "Rad."  
  
"No, I haven't heard from the guys on the bus yet, sir."  
  
"Rats. Okay, tell Major Houlihan she'll be a doctor this morning. Is it morning?"  
  
"Yes sir, just."  
  
"Fine. Do you want a shot at being a doctor, Radar?" Henry asked, half joking.  
  
"No thanks, sir. The only sick people I can deal with are the ones eating in the Mess Tent."  
  
"How are you holding up, BJ?" Henry asked from his table.  
  
"Just great, thanks," BJ replied, concentrating hard on what he was doing.  
  
"And you, Margaret?" Henry enquired.  
  
"Not bad, thank you," she replied politely. In truth she was scared. She left as though the life of her patient was solely in her hands, and it was not something you could get used to in mere hours.  
  
"Suction, Radar. No, Radar, you can't do it with your eyes closed," Henry told him. Two nurses short, the camp elected Radar to fill in for the time being. He was not happy about the idea, but he was unable to ignore the command.  
  
"Sorry, sir," he replied meekly.  
  
Henry softened. "It's all right, Radar. We're all a bit on edge right now, I'm sorry for snapping. Oh boy, we got a bleeder." On hearing a thud, Henry asked, "Radar?" A second later, Henry yelled, "Father, get him to the side. Nurse Kellye, are you sterile? Good, gown and gloves, and you can assist me."  
  
"Only Henry could pick a replacement nurse who's queasy," BJ remarked light- heartedly. The joke lightened the mood, but no one could forget the stressed placed upon them at that time. They concentrated on their work as the sun slowly began to rise.  
  
Darkness was also beginning to fade for those on the bus. They were just over an hour away from camp. As usual, Klinger drove the bus. Hawkeye and Ginger indulged in a game of eye-spy, and Trapper was asleep again in one of the bunks. Hawkeye had caught some sleep earlier, and now it was Trapper's turn. Ginger did not take a turn, as she hated to sleep when travelling.  
  
"I told you this short-cut would work," Klinger stated proudly.  
  
"Yeah, okay. Now, you said something beginning with R?" Hawkeye pondered.  
  
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shell exploded in front of the bus. Klinger had to swerve to avoid damage, but almost immediately another shell caught them by surprise.  
  
"Stop the bus!" Hawkeye shouted. "Everyone get out!" Klinger did not need to be told twice. Instantly he stopped the vehicle and ran out of the bus behind Ginger. They ran to a nearby patch of grass and kept low.  
  
Hawkeye glanced to check that Trapper was awake before he followed suit. Moments after he stepped off, there was a huge explosion behind him that sent him flying. Klinger and Ginger looked up in horror to see that the bus burst into flames before their eyes.  
  
Hawkeye, who had been flung by the blast, looked up. "Trapper," he muttered before he lost consciousness. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Radar did not know what to do with himself. Where could the bus be? He'd tried the radio, but got nothing, not even a crackle. He called the nearest places to the site of the crash, but apart from finding out they had left the site, he got nothing else.  
  
"Sparky? Yeah, it's Radar again. Yeah, it's Radar again. Yeah, I know this is the hundredth time I called today, but just listen up. I need to check all the places along the road the bus took. Waddaya mean, what bus? The bus that should have been back three hours ago but isn't. Oh good, you remember the road. uhuh yeah. WHAT?! The road's been closed? Since when do they close roads in Korea? MPs, yeah, I know they block it with their jeeps, but why? Shelling? Oh boy. Thanks, Sparky. Yeah, yeah, you'll get your comic book back."  
  
Radar helplessly dropped the receiver back into the box. That bus could be anywhere, on any road. And that's unless. no. Radar didn't dare think that there was a chance the bus was caught up in shelling. Was it possible?  
  
"Radar," Henry called from his office as the clerk hurried into the room.  
  
"You called, sir?"  
  
"Where's the bus? Is it back yet?"  
  
Radar sighed. "Still no sign on it yet, sir," he reported gravely.  
  
"None?" Henry asked in disbelief.  
  
"I've called everywhere, but their route's closed, due to heavy shelling. They could be anywhere. There's not a peep out of their radio," he added.  
  
Henry sighed. "It's almost ten in the morning. They should be back by now!" Seeing Radar's exhausted demeanour, he asked, "didn't get much sleep last night?"  
  
"Well, after they left in the evening, I wrote to my Ma, so I only got two hours sleep."  
  
"Well, get some now, and that's an order," Henry commanded.  
  
"Yes sir," Radar said.  
  
Before Henry left for Post-Op duty, he decided that he had better update BJ on the situation, than suffer from the Captain's wrath of annoyance later.  
  
He poked his head into the Swamp. "Are they back yet?" BJ, who had been laying down on his cot, sat up instantly the door opened. "What have you heard from them?"  
  
"Nothing." It said it all.  
  
"Nothing? No radio?"  
  
"Radar is standing by. We'll let you know the minute we hear anything." Henry did not tell BJ that they had left the crash site hours before. BJ was new to the camp, and it was difficult for Henry to predict how the Captain would react. Judging from the character he had seen over the last few weeks, probably not well.  
  
Hawkeye woke up in a daze. His head pounded terribly, and he was cold. He heard exploding noises, and turned around to see the bus was alight, flames licked away at the back part of the vehicle.  
  
Ignoring the protests of his aching head, Hawkeye scrambled to his feet and ran to the bus. "What the hell are you doing?" Klinger called out, but to no avail.  
  
Hawkeye did not know what he was doing, going onto a blazing bus. The head was so intense it ate at him. He crouched low, and saw Trapper one foot in front of him, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Not wasting a second searching for a pulse, Hawkeye took his friend from underneath the arms and dragged him off of and away from the bus.  
  
Klinger and Ginger ran over to where Hawkeye was performing CPR. Ginger instantly joined him. Klinger sat, in shock. He couldn't get over what he had just seen. The bus. the bus he had just been on seconds before. Hawkeye went back on and got Trapper out. and then right before his eyes the bus exploded into a thousand pieces. Hawkeye and Ginger flinched, but Klinger couldn't move. He just sat still and cold as ice, not blinking, unable to take anything in.  
  
"There," Hawkeye concluded after seeing a shuddering breath from Trapper. He glanced up at Klinger who was whiter than a sheet. "He's in shock." Ginger reacted quickly, and took off her jacket to wrap around the Corporal.  
  
Ginger than began to fuss around Hawkeye. Wishing she had a first-aid bag, she ripped off the sleeve of her shirt and put it against Hawkeye's bleeding head. "Hold still," she said as he backed away.  
  
"Is that clean?"  
  
"Don't let the colour fool you," Ginger muttered, wondering how she was going to hold it there. She could only think of one way, and began to untie her bootlaces. She tied them around Hawkeye's head to hold the khaki bandage in place.  
  
"Wow, bet I look great like this," Hawkeye said sarcastically.  
  
"You wanna try and do better?" Ginger retorted.  
  
Hawkeye regretted his words. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't be taking this out on anyone, least of all you."  
  
"It's okay," she replied sincerely.  
  
"Now that you've patched me up, let's see if you're okay," he began. He checked her over, and found little more than scratches that injured her.  
  
Hawkeye hastily began to tend to Klinger whilst Ginger kept a close eye on Trapper's condition.  
  
"I'm fine, sir," Klinger kept telling him. He was indeed feeling better, but Hawkeye's wasn't taking any chances.  
  
"Rest," he persisted.  
  
"But sir, it's broad daylight now, sir. We can't just stay here, but the side of the road. What are we going to do?"  
  
Hawkeye realised that he would have to take charge. "Okay. Did anyone remember that little village we passed ten minutes before the shelling started? We'll head that way and see if there's anyone who knows the way to Ouijonbong."  
  
"What about Cap'n McIntyre?" Klinger asked.  
  
That posed a problem. "Tie two jackets together by the sleeves, put him on them and we'll carry him that way," Ginger suggested.  
  
Hawkeye nodded, taking off his jacket. Klinger began to do the same, but he was stopped.  
  
"We'll use mine," Ginger said, knowing that Klinger was still liable to show symptoms of shock.  
  
Soon, they had a makeshift stretcher, as Hawkeye had found some branches to put through the arms of the jackets. "It's not strong, but it'll have to do," he said.  
  
It was not easy to carry Trapper, but through taking turns they managed it. Five minutes away from the village, Trapper began to regain consciousness. Hawkeye and Klinger, who were carrying him at the time, set him on the ground.  
  
"Trap?" Hawkeye began, crouching down beside him.  
  
After a groan, Trapper asked, "Am I alive?"  
  
"Yeah, you're okay," Hawkeye told him.  
  
"How? How could I possibly be alive? Last thing I knew, a shell landed on the bus, I got up and it all went black. I thought, 'okay, this is it.' How the hell did I survive?"  
  
"That dopey best friend of yours," Klinger said simply.  
  
"You?" Trapper asked, looking at Hawkeye.  
  
"It wasn't MacArthur," Hawkeye joked in a far from humorous atmosphere.  
  
"You're mad," Trapper smiled. He began to get up, but protests forced him back down.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Getting up," Trapper replied, trying again. Then he stopped, as though he realised something. "What is that on your head?"  
  
"Ginger's makeshift bandage. It's all the rage in Paris," Hawkeye explained, striking a pose. Meanwhile, Trapper had made it into a sitting position.  
  
"Are you sure you're all right?" Klinger asked.  
  
"Fine," Trapper replied. "In a minute, for an encore, you'll see me walk." He got unsteadily to his feet. After swaying for a moment, he took a few steps. "See, I can walk okay."  
  
After retrieving their jackets from the stretcher, the four of them continued their journey to the village.  
  
"Only another five minutes, I think," Hawkeye said, trying to give some encouragement to the group, himself included.  
  
A few moments later, Ginger stopped dead. Her eyes were wide in disbelief.  
  
"Ginger, what's up?"  
  
Ginger could only point. The Korean village they had passed not even two hours ago was now nothing more than charred and battered pieces of remains.  
  
All of them stared. Their last hope disappeared. They were stuck. No food, no shelter, and next to no hope.  
  
"I hate war," Hawkeye murmured. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Hawkeye was cold everything ached when he woke up. He remembered why he quit going to summer camp when he was younger. He saw the other three huddled around him, desperately trying to keep warm. Looking at his watch, he saw it was close to seven o'clock in the morning. They'd better wake up before the rest of the war did.  
  
Hawkeye nudged Klinger. "Hey Klinger," he whispered hoarsely. "Time to get up."  
  
"Already?" Klinger mumbled sleepily.  
  
"Sorry, but we have to," Hawkeye replied. It was a wonder they'd survived as long as they had. They'd walked for a day, and then found a disused jeep and decided to spend the night beneath it, for safety. "Watch your head," he warned as Klinger slid out from beneath the disused vehicle. "Ginger, honey, you've got to get up now."  
  
"Oh, okay," she murmured.  
  
"You feeling okay?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
"As well as could be expected," she replied, as she too slid out from beneath the vehicle.  
  
Hawkeye was ready for the awakening of Trapper, who was prone to jumping with a start when he woke up. He put his hand an inch above Trapper's head.  
  
"Trap," he said, and shook him slightly. Sure enough, Trapper shot straight up, crushing Hawkeye's hand between the head and the jeep.  
  
"What?" Seeing Hawkeye's hand, he winced. "Ouch, did I do that? Sorry, Hawk."  
  
"No trouble," Hawkeye grimaced, only comforted by the fact that it was his hand that was hurt and not Trapper's head.  
  
They slid out from beneath the jeep. "Where's Klinger?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
"Nature called," Ginger replied with a shrug.  
  
"Hey, anyone know which way we're headed?" Klinger called as he came out from behind a tree.  
  
"The way we were heading yesterday," Hawkeye informed them.  
  
"Still on foot?"  
  
"Not unless you've got a pair of roller-skates tucked away in your pocket," Trapper said sarcastically.  
  
"Radar," BJ said as he walked into him office. The young clerk was not in his bed, but instead he was found asleep at his desk, the phone inches from his hand.  
  
Radar heard the disturbance and woke up. "Sir?"  
  
"Have you heard anything?"  
  
"Wha. oh yeah, I'm waiting on a call, the guy said it might be important."  
  
"When was that?"  
  
Radar checked his watch. "About twenty minutes ago." The ring of the phone broke their conversation. "This is it."  
  
Radar listened for a few seconds before turning a pale colour. "Yeah, I understand. Thank you."  
  
As soon as Radar replaced the receiver, BJ asked him, "Was that them?"  
  
Radar stammered, "They found the bus. what's left of it." BJ's heart sank to his boots. "It got hit by a shell. No dog-tags were found."  
  
"Well, they're still out there, then," BJ stated firmly.  
  
Radar stared at BJ. He's new. He has hope still somewhere inside him. Give him a few months, he thought to himself, and then he'll understand.  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for?" BJ questioned, bringing Radar out of his trance. "They can't have gone far!"  
  
"I've got to report to Colonel Blake," Radar told him, still in shock. He still had hope, of course, but not much.  
  
"How long have we been walking for?" Ginger asked.  
  
"Five hours," Hawkeye noted. "Time for a rest?" They had had rests every hour or so, because their injuries were still very much present.  
  
"Hey, look," Klinger said. "A cart!"  
  
"Like the ones the oxen pull along?"  
  
"Yeah, but if two pull and two rest we'll get along much faster."  
  
"Until we get to a hill," Trapper said, resting his aching back by lying on the ground.  
  
"Or an ox," Ginger murmured. She had seen one, a hundred yards away in a field. She carefully picked her way along a path by the edge towards the ox.  
  
"Ginger! What if you find a mine?"  
  
"Then, since it's a mine, you aren't having it!" Ginger called back.  
  
"Boy, she's got guts," Klinger murmured.  
  
"If she's not careful we could be seeing them soon," Hawkeye murmured back.  
  
Ginger coaxed the creature towards her, and led it down the path.  
  
"This one's nice, seems friendly," she said as she attached it to the cart.  
  
"A friend for Radar," Hawkeye remarked.  
  
They all got in the cart, but the ox just stood there.  
  
"Anyone got any keys?" Trapper asked.  
  
"Wait, I can solve this," Klinger said. He hopped off of the cart and grabbed some grass from the field. He climbed onto the ox and stuck the grass out in front of it. The creature began to move at a steady pace, hungry for the grass.  
  
"Nice work, Klinger," Hawkeye praised.  
  
"Saw it in a movie once," Klinger explained.  
  
"This is the life," Hawkeye proclaimed, sitting back with his arms behind his head and putting his feet on one of the bars of the cart.  
  
"I could think of better places to be," Trapper grumbled.  
  
"We'll be back soon," Hawkeye promised him, patting him on the shoulder. As he did, he felt a soft thump on the side of his own shoulder, and saw that Ginger had fallen asleep on him. He adjusted her slightly and let her sleep.  
  
"She's been great through this," Trapper noted.  
  
"Yeah, she's proven herself all right," Hawkeye agreed. He had a thought for a moment. "You know, with the right papers, we could make her a Captain."  
  
"You think she'd like that? I mean, look where it got us!"  
  
Why wasn't anyone searching for them, or at least doing something? BJ sat in the Swamp, drowning his sorrows.  
  
"Attention, all personnel, incoming wounded within half an hour. All shifts report to OR on the double," came the PA announcement.  
  
"Wounded?" BJ asked to himself. He wasn't drunk, but he was by no means sober enough to operate.  
  
But what if Hawkeye or Trapper or Ginger or Klinger were with the wounded? He'd have to be there, just in case they were hurt.  
  
BJ stumbled out of the Swamp and headed towards the OR. He tricked through the door and almost fell into Margaret's arms.  
  
"BJ?" she asked. "Are you okay?" She could smell the alcohol. "You've been drinking!"  
  
"What else is there to do in this damn war?" BJ asked, washing his hands.  
  
"Are you fit to operate?" Margaret questioned.  
  
"I'm going to operate, whether I'm drunk or not," BJ replied calmly. "Henry can't do it alone."  
  
Margaret didn't like to admit it, but BJ was right. Henry couldn't do it alone, even with Margaret there to help. Margaret made up her mind to have her best nurse assist BJ, to keep him in check.  
  
The wounded rolled in and rolled out, and BJ managed to keep his head throughout the surgery. Afterwards, he collapsed on the bench in Pre-Op. Henry came out to see him.  
  
"You are very lucky," Henry growled. "I've been drunk on many, many occasions, but never once during surgery. What have you got to say for yourself?"  
  
"I'm not drunk," BJ slurred slightly."  
  
"Hunnicutt, you're a brilliant surgeon, but being drunk under any circumstances during surgery won't help anyone."  
  
"These circumstances, as you call it, are not just any circumstances. I have been over here in Korea for a month, one whole month, and I have seen more blood, guts and death than I have seen since I started working to becoming a doctor. And then, just a month into it, four people, two of which are by best friends in this God-forsaken place, to missing, and no one seems to be doing anything about it. What am I meant to do? Try and get on with life whilst I have all that hanging over my head? It's just not possible!"  
  
Henry stood his ground throughout the speech, and though he understood what BJ was going through it was still inexcusable to be under the influence of alcohol when operating.  
  
"Dismissed," he said sternly, and BJ was inwardly surprised. He guessed that under the stress, Henry was beginning to act like a real commander.  
  
Instead of taking Henry's advice and laying off the booze, BJ did the opposite. He went straight to the Swamp and poured himself a long drink.  
  
More long drinks later, BJ tried to stand up for yet another, but thought better of it when the Still kept moving. He tried to clear his head and make some room for thought.  
  
No one was out looking for them. Why? They were all too busy at the camp, with the wounded and stuff. He could do it! It would be so easy. He could just walk out of the camp, past Rosie's Bar and away into the world of Korea.  
  
He stood up, took a moment to steady himself, and then started his aimless journey to find his missing friends.  
  
"Captain McIntyre, sir, I'll go back on our ox friend if you want," Klinger suggested. He had taken a turn to sleep, as this was uncomfortable to do on an ox.  
  
"Frank," Hawkeye said.  
  
"Where?" All three of them asked suddenly.  
  
"Frank the ox," Hawkeye explained.  
  
"You named the ox after Frank?"  
  
"No, no. Frank was named after the ox," Hawkeye clarified.  
  
It was late in the evening, and the group had been travelling for several hours with the ox. They had stopped and asked for directions numerous times, and was finally pointed in the right direction by someone who spoke fairly good English.  
  
"Hey," Hawkeye said suddenly. He was trying to listen out for something, but couldn't hear because of the ox's hooves. "Klinger, stop the ox."  
  
Klinger too the grass away, but instead of doing what they wanted, the ox became angry, and took off at a furious pace. Not ready for the sharp change in velocity, both Trapper and Ginger were thrown off the cart.  
  
"Oww," Ginger groaned. Her arm was in more pieces than it should have been. Trapper ran over on hearing her cry. "Hey, your head's bleeding," she informed him in a weak voice.  
  
"Well, you still beat me on this one. I've just got one bleeding arm, and I'll need three of them to beat you broken arm," he told her, examining her as best he could. "I can't do anything for it now, but once we find the Lone Ranger and Tonto we'll fix it up good as new."  
  
Meanwhile, the two in question were trying to think of what to do, whilst holding on for their lives.  
  
"Should we jump off?" Klinger yelled through the commotion.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Should we jump off?" Klinger yelled again, louder.  
  
"No, I think we should jump off!" Hawkeye yelled back.  
  
"What?"  
  
Hawkeye would have yelled back again, had he not seen a sight that was heaven to his eyes. There were the lights, sights and sounds of the 4077th M*A*S*H unit. Finally, they were back.  
  
He also saw something else. It was just a glint, a mere fleck of light that caught his eye, but it was enough to investigate and find out more. With no hesitation, he jumped off of the slowing cart. Seeing this, Klinger did the same. He followed Hawkeye to where he was crouched on the ground.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"From the smell of it, I'd say it was the contents of our Still," Hawkeye guessed. On closer inspection, he gasped. "It's BJ!"  
  
"What's he doing here?"  
  
"No idea, but he's probably not in the mood for questioning at the moment," Hawkeye decided, knowing the size of the hangover that his friend would have once he woke up.  
  
BJ, as if on cue, opened his eyes a crack. "Uh, Hawkeye, I found you! I knew I would!"  
  
Hawkeye chose not to argue and say that it was actually he and Klinger who did the finding. He turned to Klinger and said, "I saw the camp, did you?"  
  
"You mean we made it home?" Klinger asked, not quite believing it.  
  
Home. Hawkeye wondered about that. Could they really call it home? Well, it was better than the Korean wilderness. He decided that maybe it was home. After all, it was there that people cared for him, and he in turn cared for them. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
"They can't have gotten much further," Trapper gasped. He was getting tired and his injuries were taking their toll. Ginger too was not faring well. Her arm was in so much pain that she had to bite back the tears. She said nothing as they plodded along in the darkness.  
  
"Need a rest?" Trapper asked.  
  
Ginger nodded numbly. They both lay down in the middle of the road. Their awareness of danger had disappeared; they were too tired and ailing to care.  
  
Trapper stood ten minutes later. He thought that Ginger would too, but she had fallen asleep. No wonder, Trapper thought to himself. They'd spent a day walking, with nothing to eat and little to drink. Trapper was even starting to miss the Mess Tent.  
  
He picked Ginger up, mindful of her arm, and started to walk again. "They can't have gone that far," he kept muttering to himself as he trudged along.  
  
What if he'd taken a wrong turn? He'd be in even more hot water than he had been in half an hour before. He came to his senses when he heard Hawkeye's voice calling out.  
  
"Trapper!" It echoed. "Trapper! Ginger!"  
  
"Here!" Trapper called back. He walked more swiftly. "Hawkeye?"  
  
Hawkeye soon caught sight of Trapper and jogged towards him. "What happened?" he asked, seeing Ginger in Trapper's arms.  
  
"Broke her arm," Trapper said breathlessly as Hawkeye took some of her weight. "She fell asleep, thought it best to leave her that way."  
  
"Good thinking," Hawkeye replied. "We're a mile from camp."  
  
"A mile? That's great!" Trapper yelled almost too loudly.  
  
"Shh, you wanna wake up the war?" Hawkeye hissed.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Trapper replied, more quietly.  
  
"Guess who we met on the way?" Hawkeye began.  
  
"General MacArthur, busking*," Trapper guessed.  
  
"Close. BJ, drunk as a skunk."  
  
"BJ? Out here?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Why does he always get drunk at the least convenient of times?"  
  
"He learns from Henry," Hawkeye replied. "Klinger's waiting with him. Know what he said?"  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"He said, 'I've found you, I knew I'd find you,' something like that."  
  
"He set out to find us, drunk, and made it half a mile?"  
  
"We really ought to watch him and that Still, until he learns the right and wrong times to get drunk," Hawkeye said as they neared Klinger and BJ.  
  
"Tell you what. I'll carry Ginger, and you and Klinger can help BJ," Trapper suggested.  
  
The five slowly edged the half-mile back to the camp. It was pitch dark, but they could see the lights in the distance. When they got there, Hawkeye decided to put BJ into the Swamp, so that it was not evident that he had gone AWOL. The other three headed towards X-ray to see the damage done to Ginger's arm. They found there and the rest of the camp almost deserted, because they were all at a movie. Once they had X-rayed Ginger's arm, they joined Hawkeye, who was waiting in Pre-Op.  
  
"Woah, sir!" Radar gasped as he walked into Pre-Op and saw that the missing personnel were no longer missing. "You're alive?"  
  
"What else did you expect?" Trapper asked as he laid Ginger on the table.  
  
"Hey, Radar, it looks like you've seen a ghost," Hawkeye remarked.  
  
"Or four," said Klinger dryly.  
  
"I'll go tell the Colonel you're back," Radar said as he scurried away.  
  
"Looks like a broken radius," Trapper decided from both examination and the X-ray. "I think we all broke or injured something on that journey."  
  
"Not me," Klinger piped up.  
  
"No, nothing broken or injured. All you did was go into shock," Hawkeye said. "Anyway, nothing that can't be fixed."  
  
At that moment, the Pre-Op doors burst open to reveal Margaret standing, her eyes red and raw.  
  
"Trapper!" She cried, running and almost knocking him over as she flung her arms around him.  
  
"Hey, where's my hug?" Klinger protested lightly.  
  
Margaret was in such a good mood that she hugged both Hawkeye and Klinger before she turned her attention to the unconscious Ginger.  
  
"Exhaustion and a broken arm," Hawkeye summarised.  
  
Trapper, now having got the correct equipment, was about to wake up Ginger to set her arm.  
  
"Ginger, you gotta wake up now," Trapper whispered softly.  
  
"What? Owh, I wish you hadn't done that," Ginger winced at the pain.  
  
"Sorry, honey, but once we fix your arm, I'll give you something for the pain and you can sleep through the rest of the war."  
  
"That's great," Ginger murmured sleepily.  
  
"Good evening, Ginger," Margaret said, stepping out from behind Trapper.  
  
"Ah, Major Houlihan!" She quickly saluted with her good arm. "I didn't see you there."  
  
"No need for formalities," Margaret said. "I came to see if everyone was all right, you in particular. I look out for my nurses."  
  
"I wanted that job," Hawkeye muttered.  
  
"Thank you for your concern, Major," Ginger replied.  
  
As she finished saying this, Henry burst through the doors. "Pierce! McIntyre!"  
  
"Don't forget Klinger and Ginger," Trapper pointed out.  
  
"I was getting to them," Henry said. He continued, "Thank God you're okay."  
  
"I want a definition of okay," Klinger grumbled.  
  
"I don't think Klinger's okay," Hawkeye began. "He hasn't once mentioned his ection-say eight-ay."  
  
"Eight-ay?"  
  
"Whatever. He hasn't mentioned it once."  
  
"I'll give him a full physical. Say, haven't you told Hunnicutt you're back yet? He was out of his mind with worry. He went into surgery having had three glasses of your Still-juice."  
  
Wow, Hawkeye thought. BJ was hit harder than they thought. "I'm sure he's probably too drunk to register anything," he said knowingly.  
  
"You're probably right. Ouch," Henry winced, looking at the X-ray of Ginger's arm. "That's a pretty nasty break you've got there."  
  
"I'd love to see Henry's medical files one day. Where most would put 'compound fracture, left radius,' Henry would put, 'Pretty nasty break.'"  
  
"Can it," Henry warned, but smiled despite himself. He was glad that they were back, jokes and all.  
  
Once Ginger's arm was tended to, everyone unanimously decided that sleep was in order.  
  
Trapper walked Margaret back to her tent, kissed her goodnight, and then followed Hawkeye back to the Swamp. He stopped when he got there, though, to watch in astonishment, to watch the sight that met his eyes.  
  
"What's he doing?" Trapper asked. He had walked in to find BJ crawling around on the floor, apparently looking for something.  
  
"Hey, BJ," Hawkeye began cautiously. "What are you looking for?"  
  
BJ's head poked up from beneath a cot. "Oh, THERE you are! I knew you'd turn up sooner or later." He sat unsteadily on Hawkeye's bed. "You see, I went looking for you, and I found you, but then I lost you again, and I had to start over."  
  
"Well, you found us now, so you can go back to sleep," Trapper suggested.  
  
To Trapper, Hawkeye muttered, "The idea of us going to the Front was to give him some rest, but he's even more tired and neurotic than when we left him!"  
  
"Ain't life grand," Trapper muttered back.  
  
When Trapper had suggested sleep, BJ never even made it to his cot before he did so. Hawkeye and Trapper picked him up and tucked him in before they retired to their own cots.  
  
"I've never been so glad to be back at this flea circus," Hawkeye thought to himself as he closed his eyes.  
  
  
  
* Busking is a UK word and I don't know if there's another variation in other places. If anyone didn't get the gist, it's sitting performing on the street and you get small change given. 


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6  
  
There, Klinger thought to himself. Some closure. His dresses were safely stowed away. Now, in search of some more, possibly full closure, he made his way to Father Mulcahy's tent.  
  
"Come in," the Father said on hearing the knock. He had expected a possible visitor due to recent events, and he was at hand to help. When he saw Klinger walk in, in uniform, he wondered whether he would be qualified enough to help.  
  
"Hi, Father," Klinger greeted.  
  
"Klinger, my son, have a seat," Mulcahy gestured.  
  
"Thanks. I wondered if I could talk to you, if you're not busy."  
  
"I'm never too busy to listen to anyone. What's on your mind?"  
  
"Well, you see, Father, the last couple of days have been crazy, and really shook me up, but it got me thinking."  
  
"Go on," Father Mulcahy encouraged.  
  
"Well, I saw this war from a new angle. Close up. Too close, if you ask me, but boy did I see it. Made me see how lucky I am to be at this end of it, when I could be somewhere much worse. Basically, I'm going to put up with what I got, hang up my Section Eight dresses, and try and be a real soldier."  
  
Father Mulcahy was stunned. I think he has finally gone mad, he thought to himself. "Klinger, I can see your ordeal has affected you, but for seemingly good reasons. May I make one suggestion, though?"  
  
"Sure, what's that?"  
  
"Don't hang up all your dresses. This war needs to have some character, and you provide some of it."  
  
Klinger smiled. "Thanks for listening, Father."  
  
"Anytime," he replied, as Klinger left with less of that weight that had been on his shoulders.  
  
Ginger, meanwhile, was for some reason directed to the Swamp, via the voice of the PA announcer. When she got there, she found Henry, BJ, Hawkeye, Trapper, Radar, Margaret, Klinger, Father Mulcahy, and an assortment of nurses that were considered to be close friends.  
  
She never had any time to ask any questions, as she was whisked into a chair and approached by Henry and Margaret.  
  
Henry cleared his throat. "By the powers invested in my by the President of the United States of America, President Harry Truman, I award you, Lieutenant Ginger Bayliss, the Purple Heart, for being wounded in combat." Henry gave the medal to Margaret, who pinned it onto her shirt.  
  
"A medal? For falling off a cart?" Ginger whispered in amazement.  
  
"There's more," Hawkeye forewarned her.  
  
"During the recent events, you have shown your efficiency, dedication, and most importantly, your bravery. You have exceptionally proven yourself, and through our recognition of this, we at the M*A*S*H 4077th have voted unanimously to promote you to Captain." Henry pinned the Captain's bars onto her uniform. "I now pronounce you Captain Ginger Bayliss."  
  
"Watch out, Father, he's after your job," Hawkeye whispered.  
  
"A toast!" Trapper called out, handing around drinks.  
  
"To Captain Bayliss,"  
  
"Without whom, me and two other Captains might now be here today," Klinger finished.  
  
"Here, here!"  
  
"Hey, Hunnicutt," Henry called over the room as he waded through the crowds of people.  
  
BJ winced. He had a feeling that Henry was not going to be happy with him, based on his recent behaviour.  
  
"Yes, sir?" BJ asked meekly.  
  
Henry swallowed. "I want to apologise." He ignored BJ's gaping mouth as he continued. "You should not have done that surgery in that condition, and you knew that, but I handled it very badly. I couldn't comprehend what you were going through. Forgive me?"  
  
"Only if you forgive me for yelling at you."  
  
Henry nodded, smiling. The difference between being a good CO and a great CO was how well you interacted with the people in your unit. No matter what Frank and Margaret used to say, Henry was a great CO.  
  
During this, Ginger walked up to Hawkeye. "Why do I think you had something to do with this?"  
  
"What? You getting a medal and a promotion?"  
  
"Yeah, that. You did, didn't you?"  
  
"No. Not me at all. You earned them both. You proved to everyone that you don't need to be a guy with freckles to be brave."  
  
"Thanks, Hawkeye." She gave him a hug. They had become equals and friends in one relatively short journey.  
  
After the party, Trapper and Margaret headed back to her tent. It was their first chance to really talk since that journey. They sat on her bed and just took a moment to be in each other's company again.  
  
"I never want you to go through that again," Margaret said finally.  
  
Trapper squeezed her hand. "You're not the only one. I spent the nights dreaming about you. Those dreams weren't so great," he admitted. "I thought I'd never see you again."  
  
Margaret leaned into him. "Don't worry, honey. You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you."  
  
Trapper looked fondly at her. "When I was away, I thought about us a lot. I took you for granted. If I ever do that again, just remind me of the last few days, okay?"  
  
Margaret looked faintly surprised. "You know, I thought the same thing. If I even lost you, God forbid, I wouldn't know what to do."  
  
"I'll draw you a map," Trapper replied, and kissed the top of her head.  
  
  
  
The End 


End file.
